


Lost and Found

by Syven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syven/pseuds/Syven
Summary: Originally written on 12/16/2009.





	Lost and Found

Word came to Aunt Muriel's the night before the Battle, sent by Hermione on Merlin only knew who's owl, flapping through the kitchen window during a subdued dinner. Fred had caught the bird, untangling the parchment as the indignant owl squawked and fluttered. "Hermione!" Fred exclaimed, standing straight up, upending his glass of pumpkin juice and George rose beside him. Her father got up slowly, holding out a hand while he tried to balance his reading glasses on with the other but Charlie got to the parchment first, tugging it from Fred's hands while both twins gave sounds of protest. Ginny put her fork down and clasped her hands in her lap. 

Her father cleared his throat and Charlie glanced up, a slight, embarrassed flush high on his cheeks. He held the parchment out to his father as he said. "They'll be at Hogwarts tomorrow. Hermione says to tell the Order – everyone – they've gotten everything they need, whatever that means." Ginny turned on the bench then, slipping out of the room without anyone noticing. She was used to that. Her brothers were all clamoring to talk at the same time and her mum, her mum, was tutting and tisking and wringing her apron edge. 

Ginny took the stairs two at a time, ducking into the room she shared with the twins. Her school backpack was under her bed, just where it had remained since her parents had insisted she stay after Easter visit, after Luna had gone missing. All she could think of was Neville, of those last days before Easter break, when he'd come back to the Room of Requirement shaking like a leaf, how it had felt to see him hurt, the nights they spent tangled together on one hammock, the warmth of his breath on her neck, the feel of his arms around her. The innocence and comfort blended together with a deep thread of love and friendship. 

She loathed every moment of being trapped in the oppressively dark house, ignored and talked over. He'd sent one owl. An owl she couldn't even reply to – the Death Eaters were actively looking for her family. She couldn't bring that down on him. Ginny pulled the pack out and threw it onto the spare bed, tugging at the ties to find the parchment. It was worn from the number of times she'd opened it, the number of times her fingers clutched the edges of the paper, wrinkled. The careful script only read a few lines. _Ginny, I hope you're safe. No word about Luna. We haven't given up. I miss you. Love, Neville_

'I miss you, too,' Ginny thought plaintively and, in that heartbeat, she knew what she was going to do. She hadn't been idle at Aunt Muriel's even if everyone else forgot she existed unless they needed her to change sheets or wash dishes. Professor McGonagall had always said she had a touch for Transfiguration and she'd been giving her instruction on testing for Animagus before the Easter train. Even then, she'd only just managed to complete the first set of willful transformations and it had been under Professor McGonagall's watchful eye. Here, at Aunt Muriel's, she'd relied on George to watch over her the first few times but after that, Gin began to practice entirely in private. 

The Order had known that Voldemort had teams on alert for unauthorized apparitions into village points and Hogsmeade was high on his list. She snuck down the back stairs and out into the back garden, taking care not to let the hinges creak. Light from the house spilled out across the worn wooden steps and over the grass, a hint of Aunt Muriel's rose bushes flickering in and out in the wafting breeze. She shivered and glanced back, the kitchen windows far along the side of the house, but she could see the shadows on the grass, mixed together, milling about, ghostly echoes of her family inside.

Apparating to Edinburgh, she focused on the inner part of the city, blinking into existence just outside a large church. Ginny glanced to her right and was already moving toward the coffee shop there, a brisk walk that didn't draw attention on the chilly night. A pair of young men exiting held the door for her but she didn't approach the counter, ducking into the small loo. A window! She fixed the lock on the door before pulling it open. Closing her hand over her wand, she concentrated hard, feeling the rippling shift of transfiguration spreading across her. She'd done this in front of the mirror so many times, Ginny knew what she looked like now - a falcon, the Eleanor's Falcon, George had told her, holding open one of his books to show her. 

She maneuvered out the window and into the night sky, high as she dared. It took an hour, then she was looking down at the Hog's Head. She swooped around back, finding a kitchen window open, landing in the middle of the floor. The change back was slower but finally, she found herself lying on her side, cheek pressed to wooden slats that smelt vaguely of stale beer. Sneaking to the portrait was easy enough. The tunnel seemed longer now, after months away from the Room of Requirement. 

Stepping out of the portrait hole, Ginny blinked in surprise to see Neville curled up on an armchair by the fire and she crossed to kneel beside Neville's chair, stifling a gasp with her hand when she saw his face covered in dark, ugly bruises and cuts. He shivered in his sleep and she reached out, cupping his cheek and, in the next second, his hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist, wand pressing to her chest as he sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. When the light of recognition flashed in his eyes, Neville dropped his wand and tugged Ginny into a tight embrace, fingers tangling in her hair at the base of her neck as he murmured her name over and over. 

"Nev, love, what happened? Where is everyone?" Ginny whispered, her lips barely clearing the skin of his neck as she spoke. He was warm and firm and, _Gods_ , Neville, and her voice hitched back a sob of relief to see him again. It was hard to focus on the swirl of emotions that she felt when she saw him, to know he was safe and the unexpected surge of love. She felt his hand tighten in her hair and could make out something about shifting the Carrow's attention for the night, his voice muffled against her hair. Gin could feel his warm breath skating over her scalp even as she gave the smallest, lightest of pushes at his shoulder. Neville loosened his hold immediately but he kept his arms around her as she looked up at him, reaching up to ever so gently trace his blackened eye. He caught her hand and their fingers threaded automatically, his cloudy blue gaze sending a shiver down her spine. 

Neville's stare dropped to her parted lips and then he was bending his head. His lips, warm and chapped and tentative, pressed to hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her fingers tightened between his, the rough brush of lips and hot breath and his hand at the back of her neck, tilting her head, thumb rubbing that spot just at the edge of her hairline. Ginny was no stranger to snogging but this was sublime and questioning and _Neville_. She could taste the tea he'd drunk and a hint of mint and oh, his lips opened over hers, pushing her lips apart ever so slightly and then his tongue was there, wet and hot, laving across hers, tangling and stroking as his hand tightened on her neck and he shifted forward, following the heat and taste, the sensual slick of their tongues no longer languid but fevered, pulling and straining. 

Gin realized that her free hand was curled in his shirt very tightly when they drew back for air, breathing hard, gasping and panting when her somber brown eyes looked up to meet his startled blue gaze as he murmured a thick apology that sounded anything but sorry. "Gin, I'm sorry. I don't know what… Harry…"

"Harry broke up with me last year," Ginny said, swallowing as she gave the smallest tug on his shirt, leaning up, catching his lips this time and there was nothing questioning about her kiss. Her tongue stroked against his twice before he seemed to break from the position he'd been frozen in, untangling his fingers from hers to cup her face. Neville uncurled from the chair, following the kiss as he shifted forward but he lost his balance and they tumbled backward to the floor in a loud thud. Her knee dug awkwardly into his side and his hand landed on her hair, tugging on it hard enough to bring a quick sting of tears to her eyes as his body crushed to hers. They shared a strained, nervous laugh and then Ginny tugged his hair, pulling him into another kiss, raking her fingers into his hair as their tongues danced feverishly. 

She could feel the curve of her breasts against his chest, the warm press on the inside of her thigh where it rested at his waist, the warmth between her legs where his hips rocked instinctively forward, dragging the fabric of her jeans against his school trousers. His voice was ragged when he pulled back from the kiss, his fingers fumbling to unbutton her shirt but he couldn't manage and there was a distinct 'pop' then another as the buttons gave way. Neville groaned, his lips pressed to her cheek as he skated one hand into the opening, cupping her breast over the lacey, little bra. "Gin, bloody hell, you're so soft, so perfect, tell me to stop, please."

"Don't you dare! Oh, Nev, the Order - they'll be here tomorrow. They're being rounded up now. The fight – its coming here, Nev," Ginny breathed. The implications in what she said were clear – they were going to be fighting Death Eaters in a few hours and no one knew what might happen. They could all die and she didn't want to die without knowing love. Her heart was pounding madly. The touch of his hand on her breast made her lightheaded. The love she had for Neville had always been deep, strong and utterly innocent but now, the physical met the emotional in a wave of need. All she knew was this – this feeling of being needed, desired, loved – in his touch, in the tone of his voice, in the almost frantic heat of his mouth.

A tiny, needy mew escaping her lips as his hand tightened on her breast and she had no idea that small sound was his undoing, her own fingers almost frantically unbuttoning the rest of her shirt and pulling it open to him then they were on his shirt, tearing at the buttons haphazardly as his mouth sealed over hers again with a low groan. The fire crackled only a few feet away and Ginny was aware of the rough scratch of the worn rug under her back and the distinctive, hard length of him tenting his trousers tightly. 

"I missed you so much. Thought I was going mad without you. I need… I need you, Ginny," he murmured thickly, pressing hard, desperate kisses down over the curve of her jaw, suckling and nipping at her neck as his hand tugged roughly at her bra, pulling it down to free her breast. His mouth closed over her nipple, suckling the pert flesh of her tit into the insane, wet heat of his mouth. Ginny arched under him, her nails digging into his shoulder where her hands had been pushing his shirt off. The feeling was more than amazing, every nerve in her body focusing down on the slick slid of his tongue circling around her nipple and the gentle pressure of suction at the edge of his lips. 

Ginny whined, giving an impatient push at his stomach and he shifted up onto one elbow, using the arch of her back to unfasten her bra and then his mouth latched onto her other breast, making her feel as if her body was coming undone under his, her own hips jerking up to meet the rough, dry humping that grew harder when her fingers curled down in between the edge of his trousers and his hot skin, fumbling as she twisted her hand to be able to get at the clasp. The sharp sound of a zipper rang true in the empty room, countered only by the ragged gasps of their breathing, her fingertips touching the velvety soft warmth that made her eyes widen. She turned her hand, palm up and pushed down, enveloping her fingers around the twitching heat of his cock, the slick of his pre-come dragging down his length along her hand. Neville moaned loudly, dragging his mouth from her breast and his eyelids were squeezed shut as his hips rocked against her palm. 

He shifted then, almost tumbling onto his back but landing on his side, pulling her with him. His hands fisted at the closure of her jeans then unclenched, fingers tugging and tangling as he jerked the button free and worked the zipper loose. Gin helped, pushing them down over her hips and scrambling to lift her bottom as he tugged them free of her legs. His shirt hung down his back and he pulled it loose, throwing it somewhere behind the chair as she jerked his trousers down, freeing his cock which sprang from his boxers, jutting forward, hard and deep red. Ginny's gaze flashed up to meet his as he shifted again to cover her body with his own, his cock trapped to her stomach. His hand cupped her chin and he sounded as if he were in pain as he said. "Gin, I've never… please…"

"I need you, Neville," she begged, arching her hips up, pressing the soft fabric of her panties against his cock. She could feel the heated ache between her legs, the cling of her panties where her wetness soaked through and she knew he could feel it as well by the ragged moans that were spilling from his lips with every flex of her hips. His hand closed on her hip, over the edge of her panties and then his fingers curled inward, dragging the waistband down, pulling it tight against her skin until the rough pad of his thumb pressed down through the tight curls and over the tight nub that made her gasp loudly. He froze and then his thumb shifted, circling the spot again and Ginny mewed his name huskily.

There was a ripping sound and then a flash of pain at her hip where her panties tore and a needy whimper as his fingers splayed at her soft folds, Neville jerked himself up, panting as he fit the head of his cock between her folds, sliding forward an inch with a deep groan. His mouth sealed over hers and his hips thrust forward, instinctively, inadvertently spreading her tight walls too quickly and she hissed into his mouth. Neville froze almost at the same moment when he met resistance inside her, his blue gaze widening in fear and shock. "Gin, you're a virgin… Oh, sweet Merlin, I love you, Gin. I love you so much."

"Its okay, don't stop, just love me," she pleaded, her nails digging into the skin at the small of his back, her socked foot sliding up the back of his calf, unconsciously flexing her painfully tight core around his cock where it wedged half in and half out of her body. Ginny unclenched her hands and reached down, cupping his bottom as she drove her hips up, hard, blinking quickly and gasping in pain as his cock surged forward, filling her to the hilt. She could feel every stinging inch of him, the tremble of his arms as he held himself tight to her body. A tear spilled over onto her cheek and raced down the side of her face, disappearing into her hair. His eyelids were squeezed shut and his bottom lip quivered, frozen in place as his lips moved soundlessly then a whisper broke over his lips. "Not… can't hold on…" 

Ginny reached up and soothed her thumb across his bottom lip, nodding her head, encouraging him but she pushed her free hand between their bodies and her lips parted in a moan as he began thrusting, jerking roughly forward at first and then settling into a straining drive of his cock in and out of her tightly full core. It hurt at first, stinging and aching but rubbing her clit helped and the sting began to lift. She flexed her hips up, seeking more, searching out the friction that drove the ache between her legs higher, small whining moans and needy gasps that mingled with his low groans and the plaintive whimpers of her name over and over as if he couldn't believe she was really there. His hips rocked harder and he almost unbalanced himself as he lowered to one elbow, pushing his hand down the length of her arm, threading his fingers between hers at the tight nub and she shook hard. 

Her head fell back, her orgasm rolling into her at what felt like a tidal wave of strength, the rough press of her sock on his calf digging in as her hips twitched up, holding there as he continued to fuck her, somehow squeezing through the rippling clamp of her core for another minute before he moaned brokenly, his hand moving to grip her hip hard, and it felt as if his cock swelled inside her as a hot warmth suddenly spilled into her core. As he stilled, finally, the wet heat slipped down the curve of her arse and Ginny reached up to cup his cheek, his eyes opening at the same time his lips parted. "Gin," Neville whispered brokenly, blue eyes pleading. 

"I love you, Neville," she confessed softly, her cheeks flush. He dipped his head to catch her lips in a hard, fierce kiss that belied what they'd just done. Neville broke the kiss slowly, as if he were afraid she was going to vanish before his eyes and he dipped his head, nuzzling his nose against hers as he tried to catch his breath. Gin returned the gesture, her body thrumming with soreness but she didn't care, holding him as tightly as he held her even as his cock softened within her, his body shaking as it slipped free. He summoned a blanket from somewhere in the room and pulled it around her, gathering her against his chest as he did. "Don't go. Don't leave me again," he beseeched her softly, stroking his hand down over her hair. 

"I won't," Ginny reassured him with a broken laugh. "I promise. I'll never leave you, Nev." It was easy to drift off, the warmth of his arms and the tangle of their legs, the rise and fall of his chest against hers, the whisper of breath from his lips where they rested on her forehead. She wasn't even aware of the sleep rising up to drag her down or she might have protested the separation from him. Gin wasn't sure when she began loving Neville but she knew without a doubt that she did with every fiber of her being; he was her last thought as sleep overtook her.

As reason would have it, Harry arrived during the early hours of the morning, stepping through the portrait hole first. He didn't fail to catch the glimpse of scarlet hair peeking out from under the quilt where Neville slept by the fire. He cast a disillusionment spell on them and shuffled Ron and Hermione out quickly, reassuring them that he would catch up in just a minute. That's all he needed. He woke Neville with a poke of his finger to his chest and lifted that finger to his lips, his angry green stare glancing pointedly down at Ginny's relaxed, sleeping body. Confused, Neville slipped as quietly as he could from her lax embrace, pulling on his trousers and crossing to where Harry was now leaning against a hammock post. 

"I thought you were my friend," Harry said, his voice low and calm but there was a hint of anger that matched the glint in his eyes. 

Neville frowned and nodded, glancing back to where Ginny slept as he replied just as softly, not wanting to wake her. "I am, Harry. You… we… I love Gin. I always have. I'd never have… you broke up with her. " 

Harry lifted a hand and pursed his lips. "I did that to protect her, Nev. I thought you understood that. Look, I don't blame you. It was just a misunderstanding, that's all. Once I straighten it out, everything will go back to being normal. She was just lonely and I can't blame you or her for that. It's just… I need a favor. I need your help, Nev."

"Oh," he glanced back as he exclaimed the word, the sound of his voice defeated and resigned. Neville swallowed hard and nodded slowly. "What do you need, Harry? I'll do it. I swear."

Curling his arm around Neville's shoulder, Harry explained. Nagini. Voldemort. Souls. It was a rush of information and finally, Neville drew back and nodded again. He gathered his shirt and pushed his feet into his shoes, not chancing a look to where Ginny slept now, his lips pressed tightly together. Neville stopped at the door, raking a hand through his hair as he swallowed and looked to Harry, pleading. "Please. Don't let anything happen to her."

"I won't," Harry assured him firmly. When Ginny woke a few minutes later, Neville was gone and Harry was sitting cross-legged by the fire a few feet away. She tugged the quilt up under her arms and blinked, glancing around the room. Her legs ached and there was a tense confusion when she realized Neville wasn't in the room at all now. "Harry?" she questioned hesitantly, almost uncertain what to think now that she'd seen him again for the first time since he and Hermione and Ron had left the Burrow. "Where's Neville?"

"He left. He said he'd made a huge mistake. Gin, I'm sorry that I left so abruptly but I did it because I had to. I understand now, all right? I don't blame you for thinking… well, I don't blame you," Harry soothed as he got to his feet. He looked to the spot on the wall where the portrait tunnel came out and said. "The others are going to be arriving soon. I need you to stay here, Gin. Please. I can't do what I have to if I don't know you are safe."

Ginny nodded her head and got unsteadily to her feet, her heart clenching painfully as her hand held the quilt tightly around her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her torn panties peeking out from under the edge of her shirt. She didn't speak as she summoned her clothes and limped behind the changing screen. Her teeth bit against her bottom lip, stifling a sob as Harry's words echoed in her thoughts. He made a mistake. A huge mistake. Neville. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and it clenched into a fist, feeling sick to her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she muttered the repair spell over her clothes and quickly dressed, leaving the blood-stained quilt behind the screen. 

She didn't see Neville until much later that night, despite trying to find him, wanting to demand an answer, needing to see him, having slipped out of the Room of Requirement at the first opportunity to seek him out. When she saw him, however, there was five hundred yards of grass and the dark, night sky between them and he was facing down Voldemort, a bloody sword in his hand and an enormous dead snake lying at his feet. Ginny screamed his name and pushed forward in the crowd when Voldemort set the Sorting Hat on fire, her voice raw, denying what her eyes were seeing. Someone in the crowd held her back and, looking around quickly she found Ron pulling her backward from the surge of the crowd forward. 

When it was all over, Fred was dead and Harry wasn't. Neville was nowhere to be seen, the sword resting haphazardly against the table where he had been for a moment before the mediwitches hustled him away. In the months that followed, the owls she sent to Neville returned to her unopened. Her family hinted that it was time for her to move on. Let Fred go. Give Harry a chance. Get on with her life. The owls slowed. Every other day. Friday. Every other week. Each month. Three months. Six months. Christmas. They all came back. All unopened. Rumors came to her - those who repeated what they knew always did so reluctantly. Neville was in Paraguay. Mexico. Canada. South Africa. Antarctica. Nicaragua. Tibet. He worked for the Ministry directly. No one knew exactly what he did. Something with plants, they would say. She would smile sadly and nod.

In the end, there was only one thing that could make her temporarily forget the hole in her heart and that was Quidditch. The Harpies picked her up after two tryout sessions and Ginny spent every spare moment she could in the air. Her brothers came and went, visiting weekly. Harry sent flowers, dinner invitations. Ginny sent the flowers back and politely refused the invitations. Her mum scolded her to be open to giving her heart away but Ginny remained silent. Her life was Quidditch. She lived and breathed it, sparing only time for her family and escaping back to it as quickly as she could. As a Seeker, Gin pushed the boundaries, taking great risks without hesitation.

When the deadly Muggle virus began to spread, it was Hermione who came to her, finding her after a game against the Chudley Cannons. She let her friend follow her through the locker room as she stripped off her sweat-drenched jersey. There wasn't a shy bone in Ginny's body now. Two years of professional Quidditch and, if rumors could be trusted, a very small number of lovers who didn't ask questions and didn't spend the night. On occasion, Gin would shrug nonchalantly if Hermione pressed her about her love life. 

"Gin, stop. I'm serious, this is important. The broadcast is going to start any minute now and we've got to get to the shelter. Harry and Ron are getting your family. You've got to get your team and come with me this minute," Hermione wheedled, hurrying along behind Ginny. "I came as soon as I heard. Gin, the infections are spreading like wildfire. We…" There was a loud bang and someone shouted in the outer locker room. Hermione drew her wand and Ginny did the same automatically, as shouts of confusion filled the air. Hermione called for the team to clasp hands and they did, fumbling for an arm here, an elbow there, circling together in seconds and Hermione pressed a small book to the center. A moment later, they were spilling out onto the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch a second later. Ginny pulled Hermione aside as a group of Aurors came running to help. 

"What the bloody hell was that?" she demanded, her hands on her hips as she stood before her friend in her leather Quidditch pants and a Harpies T-shirt, her boots were unlaced. Hermione explained what she knew. A virus. Infected going mad. Shelters. Wards. People dying. Incurable. Millions already dead. No end in sight. Suddenly, Ginny's expression stilled and she said, hoarsely. "Where's Neville? I know you know, Hermione. You have to tell me now. You have to."

"He was in Australia, Gin. In the mountains near Alice Springs, but he's all right. Word went out to all Ministry personnel over two hours ago. I tried to get them to stop the game but…" Hermione admitted reluctantly, distracted by the almost continuous sound of people apparating onto the pitch or dropping out of the sky with portkeys. She glanced away for a second and Ginny was gone.

The rest of the day was a blur. After two years of barely getting an answer as to whether he was alive or dead, it was absurdly easy to confirm that one Neville Francis Longbottom was not listed on the shelter rosters. After that, it was a matter of being Ginny. Flooing to the Ministry. Begrudgingly submitting to a medical exam. Bullying a Ministry drone with her fame for a set of portkeys. Threatening a first year Auror to use the International Floo. Sydney. The Australian Ministry in chaos. Apparating for four straight hours until, finally, she found herself standing outside a weathered shack on the outskirts of Alice Springs, a place called MacDonnell Ranges. 

A door creaked open on the side and a man stepped out, his wide-brim hat looked as battered as his leathery face and he held a Muggle projectile weapon. Nodding to Ginny, who realized almost belatedly that she'd never changed out of her Quidditch gear, he said. "You da Sheila da Ministry sendin'?"

"My name is Ginny, not Sheila, and I suppose I came regardless of what they said at the Ministry. Are you Jacob?" she asked, setting her hands on her hips. A sudden wind blew a cloud of dust up around them.

He nodded again and jerked his head toward the shack. Ginny stepped past him into the building. A woman sat at the table, her feet propped up on it as she nursed a pint. "They picked a hellova a time ta send someone up the mountain and look at you, just a wisp of a girl. What were they thinkin', Jake?"

"I assure you, I'm more then capable of defending myself," Ginny began, frowning. "Now, if you'd just…"

The man laughed and shook his head. "This ain't the Battle o' Hogwarts, missy. Oh yes, we know who you are. Linda here is a big fan o' the Harpies but she's right, little miss. The wand'll do you some good but these… things that are infected, they'll just get up again unless you blow their brains out. You know how to use one of these?" He hoisted the gun and then tossed it to her.

Ginny caught the stick and her frown deepened, sighing heavily. "Look, I've been traveling all day and apparating for more than four hours. I haven't even seen another soul except you two and those idiots at the Ministry. We're out in the middle of nowhere; do you really think that's necessary?"

"Take 'er out back and show her how to use it, Lin," Jacob instructed, stealing the pint from the woman who huffed and got to her feet, passing Ginny but she caught her by the arm, pulling her outside with a strength that she didn't look to possess. It took a half hour before Ginny could shoot the thing without landing on her bottom, then another learning how to drive a 'jeep' – a dust-filled, door-less, roof-less Muggle automobile that jostled her violently as it drove. Jacob came out and told her they were leaving, heading to the Ministry. It wasn't safe here, especially not on the mountain. 

With the jeep loaded down with supplies, Ginny headed up the mountain, the shotgun wedged against the seat. She thought the precautions were ridiculous but all that changed when she rounded the bend closest to a village far below and found two men standing in the road. They were bloody, their clothing was ripped and they were blocking the road. Jake and Linda had been resolute. Do not touch blood. If you do, put the end of the shotgun in your mouth and pull the trigger before it's too late. 

"I don't want to hurt you, just move out of the way and let me past," she called out, one hand dropping to the shotgun. The men began walking toward her and she saw something that made her blood run cold. One man's arm was half gone and the other had a hole through his stomach. Ginny pulled the shotgun up and called out the warning again. The first shot missed entirely and she cursed, firing a second shot that took the creature off at the neck. The second broke into a run, screaming as it neared her and Ginny had no choice. The top of its head simply disappeared and it fell backward ten feet from the front of the jeep.

After that, Ginny drove with the shotgun across her lap, one hand firmly clamped on the steering wheel, the other on the shotgun. Finally, the dirt road disappeared and she stopped the jeep to set the wheels. She had no idea how close she was to where Neville might be but Ginny cast a locating charm anyway. Her wand tipped and realigned and Gin climbed back behind the wheel and started up the mountain, following the charm as best she could. With dusk falling, Ginny began to worry that she might be too late. What if he was… no, she wouldn't entertain the thought that he'd been infected. She couldn’t.

She was exhausted as the jeep crested another hill and passed through a ward line, causing Ginny to slam on the brakes, skidding the jeep sideways as she tried to make out shapes in the dim light. Turning the jeep's key, she jumped down from the seat, holding the shotgun cautiously as she swished her wand low to the ground, seeking the line of the wards. A small flare of blue sparkles rose from the ground only a few inches from her feet and Ginny felt a shiver run down her spine. It was the same ward line that she'd used on the corridor outside the Room of Requirement. 

"Jake, I told Linda, I'm fine," came a man's voice from the shadows and Ginny rose slowly from where she'd been crouched on the other side of the jeep, her heart thudding against her ribs frantically, like a bird trapped in a cage. It was Neville's voice, yes, but there was a thread of maturity in it, a slightly deeper tone. Suddenly, the words he'd said that night came flooding back and Gin had to bit down on her bottom lip to keep from making a sound. 

Setting the shotgun on the jeep's seat, Ginny walked around the front of it, stopping as he stepped from the darkness of the trees. She blinked, feeling her cheeks flush as her gaze took in the man that the boy had become. He was just as tall but leaner, the baby fat that had been around his stomach was gone and his shoulders looked broader. His hair was much longer but just as much in disarray as always. Loose blue jeans were dirty and grass-stained, his t-shirt sweaty. A cord hanging from his neck disappeared under his shirt. His boots were muddy. He was looking down, wiping his hands on a small towel, and then, he looked up. Bright blue eyes met her stare and the towel went fluttering to the ground, forgotten. He took a step closer, lifting a hand as he whispered. "Gin…"

"You aren't fine. There are creatures on the road up here. Jacob and Linda left for the Ministry. Get your things together but leave anything you don't need. It's going to be hard enough driving down the mountain in the dark without worrying about gear falling out," Ginny shook her head, talking fast but her gaze dropped away from him, shifting away because she couldn't look at him. It hurt so much more than she though it could. Two years stripped away in a heartbeat and the agonizing pain swelled in her heart. Just the sound of his voice had brought tears to her eyes. She moved to the back of the jeep and pushed the rucksacks there to one side, fidgeting with a strap.

Neville closed the distance behind her but he stopped two feet away, a hesitant thread in his voice. "Gin, what are you doing here? Why aren't you in one of the shelters? Harry said… bloody hell, I sent Hermione to get you…"

"I thought that was abundantly clear when I said 'get your things together'. I’m here to get you to safety," she shot back, letting a swell of anger hide the waver in her tone. Her hands tightened on the rail as she took deep breaths. Gin knew she had to get a grip. A year of returned owls made his feelings clear and she hadn't come here to rake him over the coals. He was still a friend, she reminded herself, sighing. "Harry this, Harry that. I can't even get away from him _here_. What the bloody hell did he say? Did he say it was safe? Because its not."

His hand closed around her arm, gently but firmly pulling her around and Gin did everything but meet his stare. Neville's free hand rose and cupped her chin, tilting her head back until she had no choice than to look him in the eye. "What happened, Gin? Why would you want to get away from Harry?"

"We're wasting time. If we don't get moving, it'll be too dark to get down tonight. Look, nothing happened. It's just annoying when everyone throws him in my face," she stated wryly, giving her arm the smallest of tugs but he didn't let go. It was hard enough being this close to him without begging for some kind of explanation but enduring his touch was agonizing. Ginny swallowed hard and exhaled slowly. "Get away from Harry? I'd have to be _with_ Harry to want to get away from him and I haven't made that mistake since sixth year."

He staggered one step backward, releasing his grip on her arm, stumbling on a tree root before catching his balance. When he did, Neville's incredulous expression was tempered by the distance he closed again, catching both her arms in his hands. There was a cautious glint in his eyes. "You aren't engaged to Harry? You haven't been for the last two years?"

"Are you mental? Harry is just friend. I don't know what trash newspaper you're reading out here but…" Ginny replied sharply, her words cut off abruptly by the hard press of his lips on hers. There was nothing at all questioning about his kiss, hard and fierce and desperate, as if he were trying to crawl inside her, his hands pulled her against his body, one hand moving almost in the same instance to cup the back of her head. It all happened in the span of a heartbeat and then Ginny was responding, a sad, low moan echoing from the depths of her throat. Her hands fisted in his shirt, fingers curling the fabric against her palm. 

She couldn't open her eyes when he finally drew back from the kiss, the sound of their panting breath filling the night air, his scent surrounding her, the feel of his body against hers, the tug of his shirt under her fingertips. Gin was afraid to open her eyes and discover that it was all a dream, like so many she had. "He said it was just a misunderstanding. That he'd sort it out. Gin, please, look at me, please," Neville begged, his hands were shaking where they rested on her shoulders. Then he gasped and made a low, whimpering sound. "If not Harry, then who? Who are you…"

"After two years, I hardly think it matters," Ginny replied sharply, her breath hitching as she opened her eyes, meeting his pleading stare with a sad, serious gaze, reaching up to set her hand on his chest, only the tightening of her jaw hinting at what she was feeling as she firmly but gently pushed him away. Two years. She didn't know what was going on but two years of knowing he didn't want anything to do with her was suffocating despite the passion in his kiss. She had to focus. They were out in the open and the image of the man with the hole in his stomach flashed in her thoughts.

Neville released his hold on her but blinked in confusion, a pained look flickering across his face. He lifted a hand and raked his fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face but the minute he lowered his hand, it fell back into his eyes. After a minute of stony silence, Neville finally glanced around, stating in a gruffly pained tone, as he circled the jeep and got behind the wheel. "We aren't going anywhere tonight. It's too dark. We'll get killed getting down the mountain. The ward line won't let anyone or anything through that it isn't keyed for. Get in. I have a tent not far from here"

Ginny inhaled sharply, at his harsh tone and the thought that the ward line had let her through. What that might mean was lost in a swirl of pained repression as she swung up into the passenger's seat, setting the shotgun next to the 'shifter' as he started the machine up. He seemed to know exactly what to do with it and it lurched forward with a roar. Neville steered it deftly through the trees and, a minute later, stopped it next to a small tent. 

She could see a small water spring a few yards away in a copse of trees and a fire pit that was still smoldering, glancing around as he shut the machine off and swung out, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He moved with confidence, pulling the two rucksacks out of the back and carrying them over to the tent where he ducked inside, leaving her sitting in the jeep. After a moment, she followed with the gun, setting it just inside the tent opening, unsurprised to find that the interior was big enough to stand up in. It was a true Wizarding tent, with at least 4 rooms that she could see and a sitting area sharing the middle with a small eating table.

There were trunks and boxes all over the place. In fact, the wall space was lined with them. Trunks and jars and boxes. Neville gestured vaguely to a stack of trunks along the left wall and said. "There's a spare bedroom there. I'll… I'll start a kettle." He crossed to one of the door openings and disappeared without another word. Gin worried her bottom lip for a moment then crossed to the doorway he'd indicated. Inside, her rucksacks were propped against the bed and she knelt by them, grimacing when she realized that one held a ratty quilt and the other held a towel, food and water bottles but no clothes. She only had her Quidditch gear that she'd been wearing since before dawn that morning. 

Grabbing the towel, Gin slipped out of the tent and wove her way through the trees to the water spring she'd seen. She stripped out of her clothes and into the water, unnaturally warm and soothing, dipping to her chin in it. Without soap, there was little else she could do so Gin rested back against the rocks and soaked in the hot water. Soon, she was dozing lightly, comforted by the soft glow of her wand and the sound of the crackling fire nearby.

"Gin! Ginny!" Neville shouted, drawing Ginny out of her light sleep quickly. She had no idea how much time had passed when Neville came crashing through the trees with the shotgun cradled in his hands. He came to a running stop at the rock beside her head, bracing his foot on it as the shotgun came up and he fired into the woods beyond. A thudding roar rose from the forest and Ginny gasped as he cocked the shotgun with a jerk of his arm, drawing it up and firing again. The roar of it filled the night but the sound in the forest stopped.

He knelt beside the rock, reaching down to grip her arm and tug her roughly from the water, wrapping his arms tightly around her, murmuring something frantically against her hair. She realized he was shaking and drew back only a little, very much aware that she was naked and pressed to his bare chest. "Nev, you're shaking. What was that? I thought you said the ward line…" Before she could finish her sentence, he reached out one hand and summoned her clothes, pushing them into her arms and he bent, sweeping her up into his arms. His long strides took them back to the tent but he didn't stop until they were inside and then he wrapped her towel around her body as he set her on her feet. 

"The spring is outside the wards, Gin. For Merlin's sake, you could have been… I couldn't find you and then I heard… and I thought…" Neville growled fiercely, rubbing the towel against her back, his gaze intense and wide. He was breathing hard and she realized there was a streak of clean on his cheek, as if a tear had rolled down it. His hands slowed but his chest rose and fell faster, his blue eyes darkening when he glanced down and saw the swell of her bare breasts against his chest, as if only just realizing the position they were in. His cheeks flushed but he didn't look away, jaw tensing as he closed his eyes, saying gruffly. "Please, Gin. Tell you are happy. I don't care who it is. I can live with that. I just need to know that you… that you love him and he makes you happy."

Some semblance of reason filtered through and Ginny realized what the misunderstanding had been, understanding with an almost desperate laugh that it had never been cleared up. Gin reached up and touched his cheek, her fingertips gently tracing along the curve of his cheekbone. He shivered, nostrils flaring, hands flexing on her back but he didn't open his eyes. Gently taking the towel, she tucked it around her breasts, and then she found her voice. "I love him but he's made me miserable. He's pushed me away. He won't answer my owls. I don't know why. Maybe he thinks he's not good enough for me but I never gave him reason to think that. I don't know what to do, Nev. It's been two years of hell."

"Pushed you away? Is he mental? But why wouldn't he… he… owls… two years…" he stammered, frowning as her words sank in and then his eyes opened wide, looking down at her in amazement. There was an undisguised hope in his blue gaze, hope and something she hadn't thought she'd ever see again – unguarded love. His voice came at a whisper. "Gin, you… you can't…"

"I can't what? Still be in love with you, you great awful prat?" Ginny shot back hotly, indignant and proud. Her chin lifted unconsciously and her gaze was alive with an inner fire. Something seemed to break in him because he groaned raggedly, reaching up to cup her cheek. The hot press of his hand filled her with hope and joy for the first time in too long. It was heady and irrational and Gin pulled his head down, crushing her lips to his, her fingers threading into his hair as his lips parted over hers and then he was crushing her body against his.

His hand shook as he stroked her wet hair but his kiss was sure and firm, hard but slow, his tongue dancing languidly against hers and Gin dimly wondered who'd taught him to kiss, feeling a pang of unspeakable jealousy and possessiveness. Her knees buckled traitorously but he caught her to him, letting the towel slip over his arm where it wrapped around her waist and his hand dropped from her hair to her shoulder as he broke the kiss, breathing hard. "I didn't know," he murmured thickly, his lips trailing across her cheek but he pulled back then, his stare intent. "I… I thought you were happy with Harry. I couldn't… the owls, Merlin, I never… I didn't want your pity, Gin. I couldn't watch you be happy with someone else."

"I've never been with Harry, Neville," Gin replied softly but there was no recrimination in her voice. The newspapers never hesitated to play up the fact that the famous Auror in training, The Boy Who Lived, attended all the Harpy home games, often headlining with absurd declarations of a supposed hidden romance between the rising Quidditch star and Harry Potter. It made good copy and she knew there were more than a few pictures snapped when Harry would pull her into an impromptu hug after a game. They failed to catch the next moment when she'd push him away firmly.

Neville's hand lowered slowly, his palm skated down, stopping just before the swell of her breast, fingers tracing the freckles there. Where he'd lost his baby fat stomach and grown into a man, Gin had blossomed into a woman with full breasts and a flare of hip that always drew the compliments of the rare lover. She knew she looked good, even now, but this was _Neville_ and his touch made her heart race madly. Gin felt the weight of his gaze on her, as if he was trying to memorize every freckle and curve and a shot of fear jolted her. She'd made assumptions, too. Reaching up, she stopped his hand with her own, her voice wavering as she asked. "Nev, is… is there someone? I mean, it's been two years. I wouldn't blame you if…"

"I haven't been a monk, Gin, but there was never – there couldn't be anyone who mattered. It's always been you, Gin. Always," he replied sadly, turning his hand under hers and threading their fingers together, pulling the back of her hand against his chest and it was then that her gaze dropped to the cord around his neck and what hung from it. A small, white – school uniform - button. She released his hand and reached up, touching the button, blinking, her gaze flicking up to meet his. 

He caught her hand and pressed her palm to his chest, over his heart and her eyes widened at the racing thud beneath her hand. "I went to the Cup game. Luna dragged me there. She insisted that I speak to you. I think… maybe she knew something we didn't. Gods, Gin, watching you fly… you're so beautiful. I thought my heart was in my throat a few times but you were amazing. I went down to the pitch. Well, Luna dragged me down there. I thought I could be your friend – I thought I could handle it but…"

"You saw Harry. Oh, Neville, surely Hermione told you that I asked about you. Did you never wonder why? Didn't you ever think about that night? I told you how I felt. I gave myself to you, Nev," Ginny finished grimly, a tear spilling down her cheek, nails digging against his chest. The button was a silent reprimand but she thought of all the owls that came back, of the silence and pain.

He bent his head, pressing his lips to her cheek, making a soothing sound as he held her tight, his tongue laving against the shell of her ear, teeth gently raking the spot just behind her ear. "I've never stopped thinking about that night, Gin. Never. I've replayed it over and over until I thought I would go mad. Hermione, she said I should take your owls but I couldn't… she's Harry's friend. I didn't want to cause a rift. She thought we had a row. I couldn't tell her. What was I going to say? That I was still desperately in love with you? That I wake every morning in frustration because you weren't in my arms? That I can't touch another woman without wishing it was you?" His hand caressed up her side and cupped her breast, his fingers stroking and teasing, his warm breath wafting gently on her neck. He shivered, groaning softly, drawing back just enough to dip his head lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her shoulder. Neville straightened abruptly and dropped to one knee, holding her hand in both of his, demanding huskily. "Marry me, Ginny."

She moaned in protest when he drew away, whimpering lightly, blinking as she found him on one knee, the candlelight casting a golden glow over his features and she coughed back a disbelieving sob against the back of her hand at his sudden, insane question. Gin nodded, quickly, sinking down to her knees in front of him, the towel hanging low on her hip. It was madness and joy all rolled into one and she managed, finally. "Yes, Neville. As soon as we get back to the Ministry…"

"No, now. I should have done this that night. Marry me now. I want to make love to my wife," he clarified, shaking his head as he reached into his trouser back pocket and drew out a small folded knife. The realization came like a bolt of lightening. They were both purebloods, from old bloodlines. Old magic. The bond. A legend in their faerie tales and myths. 

She didn't hesitate to draw the sharp blade across her palm and then he was taking it from her, her gaze on his hand as the red line followed the blade's progress. The decision was rash, impossible and madness but she held her hand out to him, her somber gaze meeting his and there she found the balance, the weight of love that overrode the lightheaded dizziness that threatened her as he curled his hand into hers tightly. Once the words were spoken, this was irreversible. They would be bonded for the rest of their lives. 

"I give myself - my body, my soul, my magic, my heart - to Neville Francis Longbottom," she stated firmly, her free hand skated along his chest and down over the slight rise of his stomach, fingertips curling at the waistband of his trousers, thumb and forefinger working the button loose and she was rewarded with a low growl. His eyelids fluttered at her caressing touch, nostrils flaring as he growled in reply. "I give myself - my body, my soul, my magic, my heart - to Ginevra Molly Weasley." His free hand clamped over hers, holding her wrist tightly as a simmering heat rose from her palm where it pressed to his and a soft blue glow of faerie lights spilled from between their threaded fingers. Gin knew there would be no wound on their hands. That's what the legends said. They'd spoken the words, mixed their blood, and now they belonged only to each other. Somewhere, in the depths of the British Ministry, a scroll was being written in their intermixed blood, a declaration that would override anything the Wizengamot could ordain. 

Neville pulled her towel away, swinging her up into his arms and strode into his bedroom. He set her gently on the bed, almost reverently, his blue gaze hungry and intense. Gin felt lightheaded, afraid to close her eyes and find that this was all a dream, an odd, painful dream. Her hand closed over the clasp of his trousers, fingers finding the button but his hand covered hers and he shook his head, groaning. "I want to make love to you, Gin. I… I want to make this good for you."

"It's you, Neville. It was love that night and it will always be love. Please, I need you," Ginny replied firmly, stroking her fingers down over the hard silhouette of his cock through the fabric of his trousers.

"Your wish is my command, Mrs. Longbottom," he growled, rising back on his heels as he fumbled with the zipper for a moment before it came free and he pushed his trousers down, his hard cock springing free and he grabbed her thighs, dragging her closer. Neville hesitated, a flare in his blue eyes, as he looked down at her, and he lowered himself slowly over her, balancing on one hand as he fit the head of his cock to her core, rolling his hips forward with a low, needy groan. "I love you so much, Ginny."

He filled her snug core in one very slow thrust, easing the ache that had shadowed her from the moment she'd laid eyes on him again but it was the intensity in his eyes that sent the shiver down her spine. Her hands smoothed along his shoulders, mapping the slight dip of muscle here, the flex of his body there. His shoulders were broader, his waist leaner but it was _Neville_ and his thrusts were slow, measured and languid, his lips alternating between whispering words of love and kissing her freckles. Ginny reached up and smoothed his hair back, whispering. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I thought I could watch you from a distance and it could be enough but I was going mad. Sweet Merlin, you feel so good, Gin. So perfect," Neville replied with a soft groan, his hips jerking forward faster, driving his cock harder. He slipped his hand between them and she moaned at the rough pad of his thumb flicking at her clit, arching beneath him to curl her leg over the back of his, her nails digging into his shoulder and the small of his back. 

Ginny mewed drawing his hand up to her breast, molding his rough, calloused palm over the full swell, her hips rocking up to meet his hard thrusts. Her free hand threaded into his shaggy hair, tugging his head down, lips parting under his, lapping her tongue along his bottom lip, suckling and nipping before he took control of the kiss, his tongue dipping against hers in an erotic imitation of the building friction of his cock driving in and out of her core. 

A small flex of her hips drew a heady moan from her and his hand was there, at her hip, holding it against his as he shifted the angle of his thrusts. His lips kissed their way over to her ear where he growled huskily. "Come undone for me, Ginny. That's it. Gods, you're so beautiful." She whimpered, her head falling back against the pills as the first wave of tension crested. His voice in her ear was the trigger, the push that sent her over the edge, her body tensing and shaking. Gin gasped his name, her love, and her nails dug into his shoulder, knowing his control had slipped completely when his hand dug painfully into her hip, his thrusts driving through her clutching core in ragged, jerking motions. She heard her name and his half-sobbed groan as the hot slick of his release filled her. He shuddered, hips twitching and rocking for a long minute, his hand at her hip loosening but he held her still with it as his thrusts slowed and then, finally stilled.

She looked up as his eyelids parted, his blue eyes blinking as they focused on her. His arm trembled and Ginny smoothed her hand up to his shoulder, silently urging him to lower his weight onto her. He did but only marginally, resting on one elbow as his free hand reached up to caress her cheek. "I hid your portkey," he confessed softly. "When you were bathing. I… I was afraid you'd leave when you found out I wasn't going to come with you."

"I wasn't the one who left," Ginny reminded him, the smallest hint of bitterness seeping into her voice. She understood now, of course, what had happened in a vague way and she knew that he wasn't to blame but a small part of her wondered why he hadn't fought for her. "Neville, what do you mean? You aren't… but…"

"Shhh, I'm not going anywhere without you, my love. I'll make an Unbreakable Promise to you right now, I swear. What I meant was - I can't leave this place yet. I was sent here to find a cure for the infection and I think I have," Neville soothed quickly, stroking his hand down her arm, along the curve of her waist and over the flare of her hips in a soft, petting touch. His voice was filled with awe. "You're my wife, Gin. I… I'm afraid to close my eyes. I don't want this to be another dream."

He shifted but didn't release his hold on her, rolling them both over and curling her against his side. Gin snuggled into the crook of his body, pressing kisses to his soft skin, her hand smoothing up to where the small button lay on his chest. Her fingers curled around it and she said. "It's not a dream, Neville, but it feels like one. When my mum finds out what we did, you might feel differently though."

"We'll have a proper wedding when we get back, Gin, and she'll forgive me. Although, I can't promise that I will be able to let you go long enough to make it down the aisle in a wedding dress," Neville purred softly, nuzzling his nose against hers. His hand splayed on the small curve of her hip and his bright blue eyes glinted with happiness. His warm lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, his warm, calloused hand slipping down to curl on the curve of her belly. "Stop taking the potion, Gin, please."

Her breath caught at his words and she blinked in surprise, feeling a flush rise on her cheeks. Gin propped herself up on one elbow, her pulse beat thundering in her ears. "For a man who didn't think he'd ever speak to me again, you have it all worked out. What about Quidditch? And what the bloody hell is it that you _do_ anyway? I thought you were a Herbologist but you said you were sent here for a cure but Hermione said there wasn't one…"

"Love, I'd never ask you to give up Quidditch. That's what you love and I'll do whatever I have too to work around your schedule so we can be together. I can portkey wherever I need to be. It's sorted because it's been the only thing that kept me sane. Work and dreaming about what I thought was impossible to have – you. Gin, you have no idea how happy you've made me," Neville promised softly, gently pushing her back against the pillows, his lips brushing over her skin, warm breath sending shivers throughout her body. He moved over her as his hand joined his lips in caressing and exploring her body. He was breathtaking to watch as he made his way down her body, stopping to press a kiss to each freckle as he explained. "I am a Master Herbologist. I work for the Unspeakables at the Ministry. I find solutions, Gin. Dragonpox, Squid birth rates, that sort of thing." 

She squirmed, reaching for him but only managing to catch his hair as he descended lower, shifting her leg at the gentle press of his hand and then his mouth was on her clit and Ginny gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair, his tongue laving out to taste her. "Oh, Neville. I'd have said yes that night, if you'd have asked me. Merlin, what are you…" she moaned as he suckled her clit lightly, causing her hips to buck. One of his hands reached up to cup her breast, molding her flesh to his palm. The hot, wet slick of his tongue was driving her mad with every languid lap and she mewed breathlessly, pleading.

Neville had said he hadn't been a monk and that was abundantly clear in the skill he used on her body. Her lovers had been proficient but there was a dimension added when you had an emotional attachment and Gin had a secret. She'd taken lovers, yes, but always with her eyes closed thinking of him. Looking down the length of her body, hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as her fingers curled in his hair, her back arching, thighs shaking then locking as her orgasm crushed the air from her lungs. His fingers withdrew before the last shudders racked her body and then his cock was there, pushing into the clutching heat, his body covering hers. 

The soft brush of his fingers was on her cheeks, wiping the tears away, his warm breath teasing her lips as he murmured. "No more of that, my love, not even when you tell our children what a great idiot I was." Gin silenced him with a deep, slow kiss as he drove her to a second orgasm before finding his own release. Neither slept deeply, tangled together so closely that any movement woke the other but there were no complaints, only tired, content smiles and the inevitable shifting to get closer. Neville woke her twice in the night to make love and she woke him again just before sunrise. They slept till noon, the bright sunlight splashing across the bed where they lay together. 

In the days to come, it became clear that there really was no cure. What he had found was a vaccination of sorts and it helped stem the spread of the infection. Eventually, Molly Weasley did forgive Neville but only after their son, Francis, was born since he'd earned himself more hot water when Ginny walked down the aisle looking flush and thorough shagged. It was a good thing Molly didn't know she was already two weeks pregnant at the time.

When the Ministry finally declared the infection 'over', only one percent of the population remained. It was a daunting prospect for them all. Quidditch was resumed after a break of a year and Ginny continued to play even after their daughter, Luna, was born but she finally hung up her broom when Neville began whispering potential names for a third late one night in their bedroom. 

As it was, Ginny was heavily pregnant with Neville Junior when she found an abandoned farmhouse in Wales near Luna and Seamus. Ron and Hermione moved in just a short walk down the dirt lane and it wasn't long before George and Angelina cleared out a small cottage behind the farm and Bill and Fleur convinced Charlie and Alicia to join them soon thereafter. Their small community lived more like a commune, sharing barns and cattle, gardens and skills. Fleur minded the children when Hermione wasn't teaching them. Seamus fixed the Muggle machines when they broke down. Alicia was working toward Head Healer at St. Mungos's and Luna unerringly always found the best places to dig for water. Eventually, Ginny discovered her own green thumb was better than she'd hoped.

Baby Neville was sleeping peacefully in the woven basket Luna had made for him while Ginny worked in their small back garden, weeding and tying up stalks. It was a quiet time of the day, noon, when the older children were napping and they were all home from their Ministry jobs for the day. Neville had been in Tibet the day before but – as promised – he'd been home to tuck in Francis. Gin didn't expect him home until late again but a tall shadow fell across her and she knew without looking that it was him. No one had ventured into their back garden uninvited after Seamus had caught them making love one afternoon. Ginny hadn't known who had blushed harder, the outspoken Irishman or Neville.

"Don't wake the baby," she whispered, hearing the jagged rasp of zipper behind her and then she turned, lying back on the dirt, her scarlet hair tumbling chaotically. Her heart raced, watching him pull off his shirt and kneel to unbutton her dress, his lips already curling around her nipple before the last button came undone. The chances that they could wake the infant were non-existent. Their children had sweet, curious dispositions. Francis was the outgoing one, Luna the observer and Neville was quick to smile.

He chuckled, sparing a glance to where his son slept, and pushed his trousers down over his bottom. It amazed her that he was already hard and she curled her hand around his cock, stroking the hard length as he crawled over her. His rough fingers tugged her panties down, his thumb finding her clit as he drew up from suckling her breast. "He'll forgive me when he realizes that his mother is the most beautiful woman in the world and I can't think straight when you are kneeling in the garden."

Gin stroked the head of his cock over her core and he curled his hips forward, filling her with his heavy length, a soft groan spilling over his lips. The rhythm he sets is familiar but no less arousing. He knew how to make her sing and she could make him lose his control. Their friends were all well-acquainted with how impossible it was for him to keep his hands off her and had grown accustomed to Neville tugging Ginny into another room quite unexpectedly. 

His hands were on her breast and in her hair, fingers tangling up the scarlet locks, the look in his eyes just as lost and awed as they had been that night long ago in Hogwarts. She arched, shuddering as she clung to his shoulders, gasping and panting with her orgasm and he followed a heartbeat later, groaning her name and his love. He rested his forehead against hers and she caressed his cheek. "Do you ever wonder what might have happened if there had never been a virus?" she asked softly.

"No. I… I can't think about those years without you. They are like a bad dream and we don't need to look back, only forward," he stammered, giving his head the smallest shake, settling down on his elbow and looking down at her. He smoothed her hair back from her eyes. Ginny smiled and nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Beside them, the baby stirred briefly but settled quickly and not long after, his parents were napping, tangled together under the afternoon sun.


End file.
